


Unafraid

by buttered_onions



Series: Voltron: AU Fills [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Crossover, Gen, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, tumblr requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/pseuds/buttered_onions
Summary: Something big is happening at Hogwarts this year; Shiro's really not worried about it. Hufflepuffs aren't known for making history.Usually.(A Voltron/Harry Potter AU, featuring proud Hufflepuff!Shiro.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/gifts).



> Yes I know I'm supposed to be on hiatus, but I couldn't resist.
> 
> In celebration of a tumblr milestone, I'm almost done filling AU prompts. This one was so fun to write I definitely exceeded my own expectations...oops. Hogwarts Sorting is entirely based off of [ this post](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/154100859863/what-are-your-hogwarts-headcanons-for-each), which in my humble opinion is entirely spot-on.
> 
> Un-beta'd, as usual, with no regrets. Prompt was from bosstoaster, who's partially responsible for this mess in the first place. Happy birthday, too :)
> 
> **ETA 11/27/17:** Now featuring fantastic art by [janestrider](https://janestrider.tumblr.com). Please check out their amazing work!!

**00\. These are the things that Shiro has.**

His cherry wand, a perfect 10 3/4”. The dragon heartstring core is entirely responsible for Shiro’s three-year-obsession with dragons, which waned somewhat after starting lessons in Care of Magical Creatures in his Third Year. Though he no longer wants to be a Dragon Trainer, he still holds a strong admiration for the majestic creatures. Hopefully one day he’ll even see one outside of the pages of his textbook.

Shiro has two Broomsticks: the unaltered Comet 290 that he plays in school Quidditch matches, and the Cleansweep Seven he definitely hasn’t charmed to _go faster_ , not at all. Shiro has his eyes on one of the new _Nimbus_ models, but he can’t quite afford it. Maybe someday.

A full set of Hufflepuff ties, the yellow and black stripes bold and honest. Shiro’s proud of his House. He _belongs_ there. He’s never felt otherwise. He isn’t a Gryffindor like Allura; Shiro’s brave, absolutely, but his level of bravery’s nothing compared to Allura’s take-no-prisoners, ask-permission-later method of dealing with adventures. Shiro certainly isn’t a Ravenclaw either, though that House suits Matt to a tee; Shiro’s intelligent and hard-working, yes, but his hard work can’t hold a candle to Matt’s voracious thirst for knowledge. The Sorting Hat said Hufflepuff; Shiro’s never found a reason to argue. He’ll do what needs to be done and he’ll fit in where he is, and gladly. He always has. The Hufflepuffs are his people.

He has his Prefect’s badge, now retired in favor of the Head Boy badge, delivered to him in a school envelope addressed in the orange ink everyone associates with Deputy Headmaster Coran. Shiro’s mom cried with pride when Shiro explained what it meant.

Two fantastic parents, supportive despite that their son isn’t going to an engineering school, isn’t going to be a doctor or a lawyer but something completely _different_. The Shirogane family’s adapted well to the surprise of magic in their household. Shiro’s well aware he’s lucky.

Shiro’s lucky also that the Shirogane family’s become such good friends with the pureblooded Holts. Samuel Holt gave Shiro his coming-of-age watch, a beautiful creation with self-winding hands and the moons and the planets and everything. (“You’ve got your own parents, of course,” Sam said, when he presented it to Shiro at the party, “but a wizard man needs a proper watch of his own, in our world. It’s tradition.”)

A fantastic and fabulous group of friends, scattered across multiple years and Houses. Allura and Matt are key, of course. Shiro’d met them both on the train that infamous September First, six years ago. Their friendship has stuck and carried true, despite that none of them are in the same House. Shiro doesn’t mind. His friends are perfect where they are.

Shiro has one consistently visible scar, stretched thin but stark across the bridge of his nose. It’s from a time before he and his parents really knew about magic. They know now. They’d been lucky.

Shiro has two flesh-and-blood, perfect, natural hands. He’s ambidextrous, which caused a bit of a challenge in Ollivander’s shop six years ago. He prefers to use his right hand, but he’ll switch it up on occasion. The Hogwarts Dueling Club will never forget that surprise. He’s not entirely sure Allura’s forgiven him yet.

Yes, Shiro is a child of two worlds, a Muggleborn pulled into something wonderful and truly _magical_.

The long and short of it is, too: the Shiro we know in this universe has the scar across his nose, but he hasn’t lost his right arm.

Yet.

 

**01\. Summer**

Keith goes home with Shiro for the summer holidays.

He has every summer since Shiro met him, three years running. It doesn’t matter that Keith’s younger; Shiro’s family adopted him immediately and without question, much like Shiro himself. Shiro’s mother even sends Keith care packages at Christmas, full of baked goods and strange Muggle objects like the stopwatch that Keith stared at for hours (or at least until the Castle’s magical field finally overpowered the stopwatch’s batteries).

Now Keith comes home with Shiro on holidays and learns about toasters, vacuum cleaners, ballpoint pens. He marvels quietly at the pictures hung on the staircase wall that don’t move; at shoes that don’t tuck themselves out of the way when they’re kicked off at the door; potatoes that don’t peel themselves and dishes that need cleaning, by hand.

“Why would I mind?” Keith had said, frowning spectacularly when Shiro asked that first summer. Shiro’d been elbow-deep in suds in the sink; Keith held the towel awkwardly, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. “We don’t have magic during the summer anyways.”

_This is no different_ , he hadn’t said, and Shiro didn’t ask if Keith had been required to do any kind of _washing up_ in his other homes, or if the wizard families who took him in ever asked what Keith’s favorite meal was or cared to make it.

“Some purebloods would be offended to spend the summer in a muggle household,” he’d said, carefully.

“Some purebloods are idiots,” Keith’d replied stubbornly, and grabbed for another plate.

 

Fast forward a few school breaks and they’re old hat at this, now. Keith knows where everything goes: which cupboard the plates belong in, which drawer the silverware slots into, which shelf on the buffet the company teapot lives in (Shiro’s mother always pulls it out when Keith is here: ‘what’s the point in having special things if you don’t get to use them?’). It’s nice to be home. Even the tediousness of doing chores by hand when Shiro knows full well he _could_ do them by magic - that’s kind of refreshing, too. Still, the instant Shiro turns _seventeen_ , he spends every minute his parents can see doing magic to make his mother and father’s lives easier - and the rest of the time quietly tucks his wand in his pocket and leaves be.

“Why not do them by magic?” Keith asks, the second week after Shiro’s birthday. Shiro’s parents are out for dinner; it’s just the two of them, washing the dishes again by hand. “It’d be faster.”

“Are we in a hurry?” Shiro asks pragmatically. “Besides. You can’t do magic yet. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“I guess not,” Keith says, and ducks his head so Shiro can’t see his smile.

“C’mon,” Shiro says, draining the sink. “Let’s go for a spin.”

 

This summer Shiro has three new things: his birthright license to finally use magic, his learned license to Apparate, and his English license to drive the motorbike (the one magic finally helped him fix up after two years of the bike living behind his parents’ garage).

“You could just Apparate,” Keith says, as Shiro pulls the tarp off the bike. “I can grab my broom and meet you there.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Shiro asks, tucking the tarp away and running his hand appreciatively over the smooth metal. It’s still mildly warm from the summer heat, tingling gently at the fingers of his right hand. He tosses Keith a helmet. “Hop on.”

Keith grins, and does.

 

The Shiroganes live in the suburbs without much of a yard. Shiro’s second favorite place is a field a short drive away. He and Keith spend hours in this field empty and abandoned, just laying in the tall grass, staring at the clouds and talking. It’s easy.

“Still taking Divination this year?” Shiro asks. Though Shiro’s already received his _Head Boy_ announcement, the traditional Hogwarts letters are set to come in the next day or so; Shiro knows, because Allura wrote to warn him. She writes at least once a week, usually from Hogwarts itself where she spends the summer with her father. Shiro’s invited her home with him and Keith, but Allura always declines. She takes care to send her mail with one of the school owls, tawny and brown and considerably more subtle flying over the low roofs of the suburbs. Shiro wishes Lance was so considerate instead of always using his family’s snowy owl, but at least this summer Lance is sending mail, so that’s something. (Even if Keith swears he’s not reading them, he still always manages to reply.)

“Mm,” Keith says, noncommittally. “Lance dropped it.”

Which is probably the biggest _yes, I’m out too_ Shiro’s ever heard. Keith can’t see his smile from here, which is exactly how Shiro wants it. The rivalry between the two Gryffindors is near legendary, with no signs of stopping despite that they’re heading into their fourth year.

At least, that’s what they want everyone to think.

“Might want to start studying,” Shiro says, out loud. “If you’re still in Divination next year they’ll make you take the OWL.”

“Worry about yourself, there,” Keith says, stretching a hand overhead to whack him in the shoulder. “Wouldn’t want you to fail your NEWTs and have your whole career ruined before it’s even started.”

“I was smart and dropped Divination hotter than an Ashwinder egg,” Shiro retorts, and Keith laughs, and the setting sun is warm and peaceful and calm.

 

“What’s going to happen next summer?” Keith asks, one of their last mornings in the field. August stretches towards September with alarming rapidity.

Shiro blinks. The mid-morning sun is bright in their eyes, though they’ve laid down carefully facing north. “What do you mean?”

“Next summer,” Keith repeats. “When you’re - y’know. Graduated, and you have an apartment in the middle of wizard London all to yourself, or you’re - you have a job running around Saudi Arabia breaking curses.”

“I’m not going to get a job that fast,” Shiro says.

Keith scoffs. “With your OWLs? And all the NEWTs you’re going to nail this year? Anywhere’d be foolish not to hire you.”

Shiro scratches self-consciously at the scar across his nose. “What are you saying, Keith?”

Keith doesn’t reply. The dead grass ripples as he fidgets, the rustle of his jacket against the golden stalks a louder whisper than the wind.

“Keith?” Shiro repeats.

“Forget it,” Keith mumbles. “It’s silly.”

“Nope, none of that.” Shiro pushes himself up on his elbows. Keith turns his chin away, staring stubbornly at the tall blades of grass. _“Keith_.”

“I said it’s nothing,” Keith retorts. “Forget it. I’ll figure something out.”

The problem hits Shiro all at once.

Oh. Of course.

“Nothing’s going to change, Keith,” he says, gently.

Keith snorts, an ugly, bitter sound. “You’re _graduating._ Everything changes. People move - ”

He stops, swallowing. Shiro knows Keith’s history like he knows the back of his own hand.

“- things change,” Keith finishes, lamely. “It’s fine. Seriously, forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You should have, because clearly it’s bothering you,” Shiro says, firmly, “And while it’s out there, you don’t need to ‘figure it out’. I’ll come home for the summers. See if I don’t.”

Keith startles. “Your job - ”

“I’ll make it a condition,” Shiro says, frowning right back. “First three summers I have to have enough time off to be here. I’ll save all the rest of my time off and use it for that.”

“No job is going to give you three months off for three years,” Keith starts.

“Then you come visit me for whatever time they don’t give me,” Shiro says. “It’s not an issue. If I’m not here, my parents would still take you in. They love having you here.”

Keith stills.

“They do?” he asks, like it honestly hasn’t occurred to him. His voice is very quiet.

“They do,” Shiro says, and means it. Keith’s doubt doesn’t surprise him. The concept of _family_ isn’t learned overnight when you’ve never had one. “Ask them yourself when we get back in. Besides, even if my house wasn’t open, I bet you anything Lance’s would be.”

_“Ugh,”_ Keith groans, but he’s smiling, and Shiro’ll count that as a win.

 

**02\. Diagon Alley**

“I’ve made our NEWT study plan already,” Matt announces when they finally meet up in Diagon Alley, four days before the start of term. Keith disappears with Pidge to buy supplies; Matt apparently already has his, from the rolls upon rolls of parchment he spreads out on the table in front of Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour.

“When did you have time to do all this?” Shiro asks, unrolling the first. It’s labeled in Matt’s sloppy scrawl, the one that indicates he was writing way too fast again. _Transfiguration,_ the scroll declares with a flourish, followed by an abbreviated list of topics organized _by week_. “Matt! Did you even have a summer?”

“I had a summer, getting ahead,” Matt says grandly. He has his own set of parchment rolls too, neatly labeled: _potions, arithmancy, muggle studies._ “You’ll have to fill in your own for Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I started but left lots of space for you to itemize the topics you want to cover this year. Perfect time to get ahead.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you since my birthday?” Shiro says, in disbelief. He picks up a second roll; _Charms_ grins cheekily back at him from the label, the ‘h’ waving in giddy irony.

Matt makes a face. “That, and Dad was so busy we didn’t have time to get out and do _anything_. He was working on some ‘Top Secret Ministry Project’ all summer, so it was this or nothing. Katie was pretty bummed. I think she spent a lot of time at Lance’s, honestly, I wasn’t keeping track.”

“That’s not an answer,” Shiro says, rolling the parchment back up. “You can Apparate; why didn’t you come over?”

Matt shrugs. “Mum was being clingy. Something about - ” He changes his voice, mimicking a higher tone with suitable Drama and Exaggeration. “- our ‘Last Summer Together As A Family~!’”

Shiro swallows his laughter just in case. “Shhh, she’ll hear you!”

Matt waves his hand. “She’s gone with your folks somewhere. Honestly, it’s like she thinks she’ll never see me again after graduation and we move out on our own. Are your parents like that?”

Not Shiro’s parents, exactly. “A bit.”

Matt shrugs. “At least I got these done. You’re not going to have time to make a study schedule what with being Head Boy and all, so I thought I’d go ahead and do it for you. Useful, right?”

“Useful,” Shiro deadpans, already skimming the parchment labeled _Master Study Plan._ It’s color-coded in moving lines and adjustable ink. “Did you put Quidditch on here?”

Matt groans. “I forgot _one_ time. _One_ time!”

“And never again,” Shiro says smugly, already reaching for a quill.

 

**03\. The Hogwarts Express**

“It’s been a weird summer,” Allura says, as she and Shiro stow their trunks aboard in the Prefects’ cabin. They’re at Platform 9 and 3/4s slightly early, as befits the Head Girl and Head Boy. Everyone knew Allura would get the position; though no one expected otherwise from the Headmaster’s daughter, Allura’s more than earned her badge with her excellent grades, hard work, and diligence. The position’s hers by experience, not by birth. Shiro couldn’t be happier for her. “Father’s been exceptionally busy, too. Lots of owls to and from, more than usual. I could barely keep up.”

“Interesting,” Shiro says thoughtfully. They’re alone on the train, practically. Keith’s already gone to the other end of the train, undoubtedly to fiercely save seats for Pidge and the rest of their little group.

Allura glances at the door, still closed.

“Shiro,” she says, “Can I tell you something?”

Shiro straightens from sliding his trunk into storage, frowning at the shift in Allura’s tone. “Of course.”

Outside their window the platform’s just starting to fill up with eager students, the few early ones truly ready to go back to school.

“Something’s going to happen this year,” Allura says, quietly. “Father refused to tell me any details, but - it’s obvious. The owls, the messages…when Father wasn’t visiting the Ministry the Ministry was at Hogwarts visiting him. It was absolute madness.”

She huffs, annoyed. For all Allura doesn’t throw around her privilege as Headmaster’s daughter, Alfor’s refusal to let her in on a massive secret clearly isn’t one she’s taken well. Shiro can only imagine the arguments Hogwarts must have heard this summer.

“I wonder if Matt’s father is in on it, too,” Shiro says, slowly. “Do you think it’s dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” Allura admits. She shakes her head, her full hair rippling past her shoulders. It’s waist-length today, and white. “Nothing more than usual.”

Shiro shrugs. “It is Hogwarts.”

“It is,” Allura says, a fond light breaking into her eyes as the first of the students veers towards boarding the train. “I’m sure we wouldn’t want it any other way.”

 

**04\. Start-of-Term Feast**

“What’s Dad doing here?” Matt whispers, catching Shiro’s arm as the students flow into the Great Hall.

Sure enough, Samuel Holt is sitting up on the raised dais with the Hogwarts Professors, directly next to Headmaster Alfor. They’re chatting quietly; Shiro can’t even begin to guess what about.

“He’s not the new Dark Arts professor, is he?” Shiro asks.

“‘course not, that’s not a secret he could keep,” Pidge scoffs, passing by. “Hey, Shiro.”

“Hi, Pidge,” Shiro greets her. Pidge waves a hello before trotting off to the Slytherin table, eager to grab a good seat. “No ideas, then?”

Matt scowls, adjusting his posture so he doesn’t get bowled over by an energetic group of second-years. “Since when does Dad tell us anything anymore?”

Someone calls Matt’s name over the din; with a shrug, he and Shiro part ways to their respective tables. Later in the year they’ll break House boundaries, as they usually do when Matt gets bored, but the first night of the school year isn’t the night for that. There will be time.

Hunk’s waving from the middle of the Hufflepuff table, his face split in a grin. “Shiro!”

“Hey, Hunk,” Shiro says. “This for me?”

“Of course it’s for you,” Hunk says. Shiro slips into the empty seat with a smile. The fourth-year student leans over and catches Shiro up in a bone-crushing hug; Shiro laughs and returns the gesture. “How’ve you been? How was your summer?”

“Short,” Shiro says, which is all he has time for before the doors at the end of the Hall open, and the nervous first years are led in for the Sorting.

 

After the Sorting is the Feast, and after the Feast is the News.

Headmaster Alfor stands in front of the entire student body of Hogwarts at the tail end of the Start of Term Feast, smiles at all of them, and reveals the secret kept from Matt, from Allura, from the school and the entire Wizarding Community of England until this very moment.

Headmaster Alfor announces:

 

**05\. The Triwizard Tournament**

The delegations from the Galra Institution and the Balmera Academy arrive the night before Halloween with fanfare and aplomb.

The Galra are ostentatious in their arrival, dropping out of a zigzagging blue portal in the sky. They arrive in a wide flying ship, more of a jagged blimp than a sailing ship in bright shades of purple and red, accompanied by fireworks. The Balmera are subtler, if ‘subtle’ can be considered digging their way out of an enormous patch of earth down by the Groundskeepers’ hut in a shimmering blue construct that shimmers like crystals, dazzling to behold. The crystal has long gentle limbs and careful claws that don’t seem to burrow through the earth so much as carefully move it out of the way, sealing the tunnel up after itself and leaving no trace of their arrivals. The claws retract gracefully until only the crystal is left, a shining monument illuminating the purple ship, landed as a neighbor on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Crystal Construct and the Galra Ship will remain on the grounds of Hogwarts for several months.

As one might suspect, the students from both schools are utterly different.

The Balmerans are instantly welcomed at the Hufflepuff table; Hunk makes friends immediately with a sweet girl by the name of Shay, whose large earrings glint in the candlelight as she avidly listens to him explain what the dinner options are. The Galrans sit at the Slytherin table; Pidge meets Shiro’s gaze and rolls her eyes, jerking her head down to where the Slytherin sixth- and seventh-years are cozying up to the largest and most intimidating of the Galran students. One of them makes eye contact with Shiro; Shiro startles. The Galra student’s eyes are yellow, and leering. His cloak is pinned over his left shoulder in such a way that makes the muscle appear larger than it surely is. Shiro curls the fingers of his flesh-and-blood right hand into the table, suddenly uncomfortable in a way he cannot name. 

__

__

_(art by[janestrider](https://janestrider.tumblr.com/post/167919572907/shiro-week-day-7-au-one-of-them-makes-eye))_  

“Can you pass the rolls, Shiro?” Hunk asks, and Shiro hastens to oblige. When he glances back, the Galra student’s looked away. The moment’s gone.

 

The Galra student’s name is Sendak, though Shiro will not learn this until later.

 

**06\. Halloween Eve**

Matt catches Shiro’s arm on the way out of the _Welcoming Feast,_ gripping tight. “Shiro!”

“I can’t stay,” Shiro says, by way of apology. Students trickle out all around them, a flow of young excitement chattering about the _Tournament_ and the _Goblet of Fire_ and _tomorrow_. “Allura and I are on patrol.”

“You can spare a second,” Matt hisses, pulling him aside. They’re not the only seventh years having this conversation; duets and trios of seventh year students all throughout the Great Hall are lingering, murmuring to one another in low tones. There’s not many seventh years who’ve already turned seventeen. Matt pulls Shiro to a corner hastily, fairly vibrating with enthusiastic zeal. “You should put your name in!”

“I don’t know if I have time,” Shiro says, honestly. The year’s already going to fly by.

“Not _now_ ,” Matt corrects, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Although - ”

“No,” Shiro says, although the thought’s actually kind of tempting. If he was going to do this - and it’s still a bit of an _if_ at the moment, Shiro’s never really been one to seek out glory or accolades, both of which the _Triwizard Tournament_ seems laden with - he wouldn’t mind slipping his name in during the middle of the night, while the school’s sleeping, before he can change his mind. The year’s busy enough as it is, between _Quidditch_ and _tutoring_ and _NEWTs_ and _Head Boy._ Would he even have time for this? “I meant the school year. What happened to ‘study plans’?”

Matt waves his hand dismissively. “I’d rewrite them. Shiro, this is _adventure!_ Think of the glory! Think of the _prize money!_ Imagine what you could do with a thousand Galleons. You could start your own business. Think of the labs - the spells - the _research_ you could do - ”

He’s a little starry-eyed already. Shiro swallows his laugh, lips quirking in a fond smile. “Matt. Earth to Matt.”

“Or _you,”_ Matt says, snapping back to reality so quickly it’s alarming. “Imagine! Think of the broomsticks you could buy. _Dozens_. Hundreds!”

“Life’s not all about flying,” Shiro manages, though it is tempting. There’s a freedom in the air he can’t find anywhere else.

Matt’s not listening, already racing ahead with ideas. “Shiro. You could _travel_. You could go anywhere. That apprenticeship in Saudi Arabia, you could take it as soon as you graduate. Or Egypt! The curses on those tombs - ”

That…gives Shiro pause.

“You wouldn’t need to work for the gold to earn your way out there,” Matt barrels on. “Or Shiro. Shiro. _Dragons.”_

Shiro’s breath catches in his throat. “Do you think - ?”

“I think with a thousand Galleons we could go see as many dragons as your heart wants,” Matt says, grinning wide with excitement and hopeful dreams.

“The internships,” Shiro says, near speechless with hope. “I wouldn’t have to save.”

The possibilities are endless. Mind-boggling. With a thousand Galleons, Shiro wouldn’t have to take a year off and work a different job to earn the money. He could go. He could _go._

“Internships,” Matt breathes.  _“Dragons_.”

“Dragons,” Shiro agrees, breathless with the possibilities.

“All you have to do is put your name in,” Matt whispers, as wide-eyed and rapt as Shiro is.

_The opportunity of a lifetime,_ the Headmaster’d said. It’s…oh, it’s tempting. Even if Shiro’s certain the Goblet of Fire would never choose him, the possibilities - Matt’s enthusiasm - his own hopes and dreams buoy him up so that in this moment, fresh off the high of _magic_ and _arrival_ , Shiro can dare to dream.

“Tonight,” he says, before he can think even remotely sensibly about it. “Let’s put our names in tonight.”

Matt nods. “Grab Allura. We can do it together.”

“What are we doing together?” Allura asks, coming up behind them in a swish of robes. Her hair’s shorter tonight but still a perfect white, brushing the tips of her shoulders. “Shiro, we’re supposed to be on Patrol. Matt - ”

Matt’s glasses glint in the candlelight. “Putting our names in the Goblet of Fire.”

“Not tonight,” Allura says, sternly. “Shiro and I can be up after hours, but _you_ still have a curfew.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Matt wheedles, sashaying up to her and nudging their hips together. “Alluraaaaa. Make an exception for a friend?”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it tonight,” Shiro suggests.

“No,” Allura says sternly, rounding on him, and for a second Shiro thinks she means the entire idea - until Allura’s eyes light up with a wicked gleam. _“No_ , Shiro, we’re not doing this in the middle of the night like we’re ashamed of it. If we’re entering the Tournament we’re doing it in bold daylight. Breakfast.”

Matt groans. “No way. Study hall at the earliest.”

“I have tutoring,” Shiro offers, by way of apology.

Matt throws his hands up. “Skip tutoring! This is the opportunity of a lifetime!”

“Tell that to your sister when I don’t show up tomorrow,” Shiro says.

“Lunch, then,” Allura says over Matt’s groan. The Great Hall’s nearly empty now; most students have gone to bed or to gawk at the Goblet in the Entrance Hall, wondering at its marvel and its mystery. A few of the professors are still chatting up on the dais. One of the castle ghosts drifts through the Ravenclaw table. “Can we all be awake at lunch enough to put our names in?”

“Yes,” Matt says, with a long-suffering sigh.

“We’ll meet at Shiro’s table,” Allura decides. The last of the students trickles out; the feast has ended. The night is young. “You bring the parchment. I’ll bring a quill.”

 

**07\. Tutoring**

“You’re going to put your name in, right?” Lance demands, the next morning.

Shiro’s tutoring isn’t for himself, but for the gaggle of fourth years who’ve somehow become an integral part of Shiro’s life here at Hogwarts.

Three years ago there was Keith, a wide-eyed eleven-year-old quiet and in need of just a bit of correction on his Transfiguration; Coran had nudged Shiro towards him to help, and the rest was history. When Matt’s little sister needed help with her Charms homework and Matt was stuck in detention, Shiro’d volunteered; when Lance floundered in a make-up Potions class while Shiro was stepping in to deliver some Mandrake leaves from the greenhouses, it’d been easy enough for Shiro to stick around and assist. The next time Shiro ran into Lance there was Hunk, who had questions about Herbology. One thing led to another, the entire thing spiraled, and somehow it was just easier to tutor all four of them at once.

Now, three years later, they’re still meeting. They meet twice a week, in the library or one of their shared common rooms (usually Gryffindor or Hufflepuff), and Shiro talks them through whatever core subject’s giving the Fourth-Years the most difficulty. He’s useless in Divination, which for some reason Keith is _still_ taking this year (Shiro’s advice boils down to Make It Up, which always worked for Lance). However, Shiro’s more than adept enough to explain Care of Magical Creatures to Hunk, Pidge listening raptly instead of working on her Astrology homework (which, likely as not, she’s already finished. Samuel Holt raised them “practically nose to the telescope,” as Matt repeated every time he breezed through his own Astrology assignments before dropping the class the second he was able to).

If no one needs help, Shiro pulls out his own homework and tackles projects while listening to the four of them pretend to get their own work done, too.

It’s an hour out of his morning, twice a week, that Shiro wouldn’t give up for the world.

“Of course he’s putting his name in,” Keith says, before Shiro can respond to Lance’s question.

“Are you really, Shiro?” Hunk asks, “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“So dangerous my dad wouldn’t tell me _anything,”_ Pidge swears. Her glasses glint in the candlelight. “Matt’s going to put his name in. Dad can’t stop him. There’s no way.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. “How dangerous?”

“Shiro could handle it,” Lance declares.

“Of course he can - ”

“Enough,” Shiro interrupts, before the Librarian can wander over. Shiro’s long since in the habit of casting a Silencing Spell on their worktable, just in case, but he doesn’t want their group to get in trouble this early in the school year.

“But you _are_ going to, right?” Lance asks. He can’t let it drop. Looking round the table at four sets of curious eyes - Lance determined, Hunk a little nervous, Keith cautious and Pidge wild with curiosity - something in Shiro’s heart softens, and stirs.

A little fun wouldn’t hurt any of them.

“I don’t know,” Shiro says, carefully.

_“What?!”_ Lance shouts, so loudly Shiro’s immensely grateful for the Silencing Spell. “You don’t - how can you not _know?!”_

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Pidge demands, “Matt is!”

“C’mon, Shiro!” Lance wheedles, from anger to begging in an immediate 180. Shiro fights to hide his grin, coughing into his hand. “Why not? How could you miss out on something like this? You gotta do it, for us. We can’t get our names in.”

“We could try,” Pidge says, thoughtfully. Uh oh.

Keith shakes his head. “You can’t. The Goblet’s protected by an Age Line. We all saw Alfor cast it.”

Lance waggles his fingers. “Magic can be tricked.”

“I don’t know, Lance,” Hunk says nervously. “Rolo and Nyma tried it and both of them ended up in the hospital wing. Did you see those beards?”

“Oh I saw,” Pidge cackles.

Keith leans back in his chair, smirking. “On second thought, Lance, go ahead. Try it.”

Lance whirls, parchment flying. “You little - ”

“Quiet, or we’re leaving,” Shiro interrupts. The fourth-years settle down begrudgingly, Lance pointing at his own eyes with two fingers and then at Keith’s, glaring. Keith doesn’t dignify that with a response. “Pidge, I know Matt’s putting his name in. He already told me.”

“So why won’t you?” Lance demands, dropping his hand.

“You totally have time for it,” Pidge points out. Her Potions essay lies in front of her, forgotten. She taps the feather of her quill against her mouth thoughtfully. “It’s not just about studying. Matt would rewrite your entire schedule if you got chosen. Just say when.”

“You kidding?” Hunk says, “We’d _all_ rewrite Shiro’s schedule. We’d _do_ Shiro’s schedule! We’re here for you, Shiro. Put your name in!”

“That would be so _cool,”_ Lance breathes, already awed once more, his imagination running wild. “Our Shiro, Hogwarts Champion of the Triwizard Tournament!”

_Champion_. The title sits under Shiro’s skin.

“It’s not as dangerous as the legends want us to think,” Pidge continues, dropping her quill. “I’ve pieced together some of Dad’s conversations this summer. There’s a lot of new safeguards and rules since the last time the Tournament happened. If my dad’s given them the Holt seal of approval, you know they’re safe. No one’s going to die this time around.”

“Die?” Keith says sharply.

“People used to,” Shiro says quietly. “Or dismemberment, disfiguration. Things like that.”

Keith folds his arms immediately. “I changed my mind. Shiro’s right. This is a bad idea.”

“Did you not just hear Pidge?” Lance asks. “Her dad approved the whole thing! No one’s going to die. Shiro’s totally going to do it.”

“Maybe Keith’s right,” Shiro manages, mostly to see Lance whirl on him in disbelief.

“Keith’s _what?!”_

“At least put one of our names in if you won’t,” Hunk says, smoothly redirecting his best friend.

“No,” Shiro says, point-blank. “That’s illegal. Finish your Potions essay.”

“It’s done,” Lance lies.

“I’m not letting you copy mine later,” Keith interrupts.

“Dammit,” Lance says, and reaches for a quill.

Pidge’s glasses catch the light as she shifts them higher on her nose. “You don’t have to put _my_ name in, Shiro.”

“Thank you,” Shiro starts to say.

“Because I can pretend to be Matt _so_ easily,” Pidge finishes. Adjusting her glasses utterly failed to hide her grin. “If he gets it, do you think he’d share?”

Lance cackles. “Pidge, that’s genius!”

“Your dad would know immediately,” Shiro points out. Pidge wilts, pouting.

Hunk takes a deep breath, raising a careful eyebrow at Lance. “Maybe Shiro’s right. Maybe it _is_ super dangerous, and he’s right not to put his name in.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says, but Hunk’s not done either.

Hunk continues blandly, far too mild. “I’d be scared too, of all the unknown dangers. The obstacles. The frightening things. Very scary.”

“Ghosts and ghouls and stuff,” Lance adds, brightening up.

Keith rolls his eyes. “They’re not going to have a ghoul in the Triwizard Tournament, Lance.”

“Vampires, maybe,” Pidge adds, catching on. _“_ I’d be scared too, Shiro, you’re probably right. Better not do it.”

Oh hell no. “Guys,” Shiro tries.

“But maybe there’ll be dragons,” Keith says, out of absolutely nowhere.

Shiro pauses. Pidge hides her snicker into her hands. “Keith?”

Keith shrugs. “I’m just saying. Dragons.”

Shiro stares, disbelieving. “What happened to _death and dismemberment?”_

“Still valid,” Keith says, mildly setting his quill down on his half-full parchment. He almost hides the mischief in his eyes. “But what if the _Champion_ gets to compete, and there’s a dragon, and you had the chance to ride on one and _didn’t take it?”_

Shiro very nearly puts his head down on the desk. “I regret ever letting Matt talk to you.”

“I can relate,” Pidge says sympathetically.

Lance, unfortunately, isn’t done yet.

“Werewolves!” Lance says, excitement rampant as he draws in breath. _“AaooooOOOOOh -”_

Shiro reaches over the table to clap his hand over Lance’s mouth, cutting off the sound. “Nope. Not doing that.”

“You totally asked for that,” Hunk snickers. Pidge cackles. Even Keith’s laughing.

“Besides,” Shiro continues, as Lance gapes bug-eyed at them all. “Werewolves aren’t scary. They’re completely harmless outside the full moon.”

“Better hope they don’t schedule one of the Tasks on a full moon, then,” Pidge says with a wicked grin.

Lance says something in protest, his voice still muffled by Shiro’s hand. Shiro raises a pointed eyebrow. “Are you going to focus on your Potions essay?”

Lance nods. Shiro removes his hand, wiping it on his robes. Lance gasps for breath dramatically and then says, without preamble, “But _Shiro it would be so cool - ”_

“Finish your Potions essays and I’ll think about it,” Shiro says, and is rewarded by the utter scramble as all four of his friends race to grab their quills.

 

**08\. Halloween**

“Ready?” Allura asks.

The three Seventh Years stand in the Entrance Hall, just after lunch. The Goblet of Fire sits on its pedestal, surrounded by a softly shimmering white ring of magic on the floor. The Goblet is full of ethereal blue flames, every shade of cerulean and sky and ocean echoing and shifting in the midday sunlight. Allura grows slightly taller to peer into it, her Metamorphagus genes completely in her favor. “Need help down there?”

“Shut up,” Matt says. If he stands on his tiptoes he’ll reach.

Allura’s hand hovers just at the height of the flames. Her graceful fingers clutch the scrap of parchment on which her name is written. “One at a time, or all at once?”

“All at once,” Shiro says, holding his parchment too. Matt nods.

The three of them step over the Age line together, shoulder to shoulder, and tip, toss, or drop their names into the Goblet of Fire.

Shiro’s not worried.

It’s dangerous, sure. The threat of the unknown is tangible and quite real, especially in a world where Shiro’s learned pretty much anything is possible. He’s had a great deal of time to think about this, really. This is the conclusion Shiro has reached, in two parts:

It’d be nice to win the prize money, yes, but that’s more of a pipe dream than anything. He doesn’t need it. Shiro will get by.

Bringing fame to the school? That’d be nice, too, but anyone chosen as Hogwarts Champion will manage that. Shiro has utter faith in his school.

The Champion doesn’t need to be him.

It probably won’t be, in all honesty. Faced with a choice between just the three of them, the best decision is obvious. Allura, the brightest and bravest witch Shiro’s even known. Matt, the most clever and resourceful wizard Shiro’s ever met. With the two of them in the running, what Goblet would ever choose Shiro? Not when there’s a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor in the running, bright-eyed, eager, strong and capable. Shiro’s never been prouder of his friends.

He’s never been prouder to be a Hufflepuff.

In this particular case, as in many others: Shiro’s absolutely not worried about his chances.

The Goblet of Fire is not going to choose him.

And Shiro’s okay with that.

 

**09\. These are the things that Shiro has.**

Shiro has _magic._ He’s a student at the best magical academy in the world, poised to graduate with great honors in seven months.

He has the scar across his nose, and two functioning, natural hands. He hasn’t lost his right arm at this point in time. The inevitable might be coming; it might not. Shiro, who never took Divination, certainly has no way of knowing.

Shiro has things he’s _good_ at in this world. He’s phenomenal at flying. He’s great at teaching. He loves magical creatures, Transfiguration, the thrill of translating a complicated piece of Arithmancy or Runes. There are secrets and mysteries out there that even the Wizarding World can’t comprehend: legends hiding in Saudi Arabia, curses whispering in Egypt, myths tucked away in the wetlands of Brazil. Shiro’s going to find them all. He’ll get there, one way or another.

Shiro has responsibilities here that he’s proud to manage. He enjoys being Head Boy, patrolling the halls after-hours with Allura, leading Prefects’ meetings, listening when students are having trouble, all of it. The first Quidditch match of the season’s coming up; Shiro’s excited to get back in the air again, this year with Hunk finally on the team. He has classes to pass and exams to study for. He has four bright young wizards who look up to him immensely: Hunk, Pidge. Lance. Keith.

Shiro has Keith.

Shiro has friendships that are deep, true, and that Shiro would do anything for. There’s Matt: brilliant, clever, sharp-witted. (The Goblet of Fire will surely pick him.) There’s Allura: fearless, daring, bright and without peer. (The Goblet of Fire will surely pick her.) Actually, the Goblet of Fire might even pick a _Slytherin_. Witting, charming, sly and careful. That’s Pidge. It’s a good thing she’s not old enough. The Goblet of Fire will never pick a Hufflepuff, and Shiro’s completely, utterly okay with this.

That’s because Shiro has a House that he’s extraordinarily, astronomically proud of.

The Goblet of Fire will never pick a Hufflepuff. Shiro knows this as deeply as he knows his own name. Hunk knows it, too. Their whole House knows it, patting one another on the shoulder in congratulations, applauding enthusiastically as the handful of Seventh Years old enough and determined enough to give it a wistful chance drop their names in. They won’t be chosen. Hufflepuffs never are. The applause, the pats on the shoulder, are as much for solidarity as they are for congratulations. _You did it,_ Hufflepuffs say to one another, to Shiro, his whole House says so with gentle touches and with smiles. _That’s good enough for us. Good for you. Let’s go get dinner and cheer on the Gryffindors, yes?_

Hufflepuffs are never chosen first. Hufflepuffs are really never chosen at all. It’s not something to complain about, or begrudge. There’s more to do in the background than on the stage. Hufflepuffs are doers. They are hard-working, they are determined, and they are fiercely, terribly loyal. They are finders, of solutions and of hope.

Hufflepuffs are many things, even if Hufflepuffs are never chosen.

Shiro’s okay with that. His heart tonight, sitting in the Great Hall as the Goblet of Fire chooses the Champion for Galra, and then for Balmera, is more than full enough.

Shiro has so many good things in his life, and this year at Hogwarts, Shiro has the opportunity to watch the adventure of a lifetime.

That’s enough.

He’s content.

Shiro has enough.

 

**+1. Champion**

When the Goblet of Fire at last chooses for Hogwarts, the slip of charred parchment that floats from the licking tongue of flames, the scrap of paper that Headmaster Alfor catches in his hand -

The parchment has Shiro’s name on it.

**+1. The Goblet of Fire chooses a Hufflepuff.**

**+1. The Goblet of Fire chooses _him._**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments totally make my ~~year~~ day, so please consider leaving one if you enjoyed this lil thing. :)
> 
> There's one and only one more fic in the AU series; when I post it it'll go up on my [tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com) first, and then to the Archive several days later. If you want it as soon as it drops, tumblr's the place to be!
> 
> Wishing everyone a magnificent and happy New Year. Many blessings on your 2017 <3
> 
> (originally posted [here](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/155034781593/hogwarts-hogwarts-i-think-were-going-back))

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